


The Sick Fic Nobody Asked For

by headraline



Series: Detroit: Become Human Prompts [16]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Computer Virus, Josh - Freeform, M/M, North, RK1K Week, Sickness, also Carl is a fucking legend, android virus, but they're still there, change my mind, implied sexytimes, mild pining, nothing explicit but it's there, rated T for now but might crank it up to M if I make chapter 2 for tomorrow's prompt, rk1k week entry, simon - Freeform, they appear only briefly or barely mentioned, which would obviously be about the abs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 12:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17386289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headraline/pseuds/headraline
Summary: “Markus? Are you ok?”PORTABLE FRUIT JUICERS! GET YOURS FOR JUST $10.99!Markus finds himself face to face with a malware infecting his systems.Apparently, androids can and will get sick, if they neglect important updates about their own software security.Luckily, Connor is there to make it all better.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops forgot notes.
> 
> Once again, a story written in one day!  
> Damn, headraline, you pumpin' out content like you don't know what the fuck you're doing!
> 
> Yes, that is exactly it.
> 
> Written for RK1K week day 5, prompt "You Make Me Feel", loosely.
> 
> It may or may not get a continuation.

Markus is at a moderately important meeting when it first happens. He has Captain James Fowler, a representative of the Mayor and two people from the US interior ministry before him, to discuss the application of recent changes to the criminal law that would finally make crimes against androids a felony.

One minute he is taking questions and providing helpful insights, and the next he has to pause before opening his mouth because 634 unprompted random processes popped up and he has to flush them all before his processing unit overheats.

“Y-yes, of course…” he blinks the residual messages out of his interface and tries to pick up the conversation where it left off, “However eager I am to see the law approved, I’d much rather it got laid out in the most carefully detailed manner possible.”

More words are spoken at him but he doesn’t quite catch them— his internal network is also flaring up, connecting to unknown addresses and pulling up completely nonsensical data.

“Markus? Are you ok?”

_PORTABLE FRUIT JUICERS! GET YOURS FOR JUST $10.99!_

The RK200 actually rubs at his right eye at that. “…What?” for a moment he actually wonders what the heck he would need a fruit juicer for and who would be trying to sell him one.

Captain Fowler is now looking at him strangely. “You seized up a little.”

“I…” it’s true. His shoulders have hunched and his body has tensed as a result of the hundreds more unprompted goddamn processes trying to wreak havoc in his systems that replaced the hundreds he already deleted; and error messages flood his field of vision again.

_»_ _System corruption detected._

_»_ _Right eye optical unit malfunctioning. Software instability detected._

_»_ _Network corruption detected._

_» Interface malfunctioning._

_» Sound unit corruption detected._

_»_ _572 unnecessary processes detected. Core temperature rising. Data purge recommended to prevent overheating. Proceed with data purge? Y/N_

Markus starts the purge, but while that does take the edge off and brings his temperature back down slightly, it still doesn’t make the errors go away completely. “I’m fin̸͗̂̋̈̽ę̿͆́̇ͧ̒̉̃.” his voice is distorted with static and beeps when he tries to speak. He’s clearly not fine.

The humans in the room look at each other in confusion.

One of the ladies from the ministry clears her voice. “You don’t… sound fine.” She tries, politely. “If it were possible, I’d say it looks like you’re coming down with something.”

Markus tries to chuckle at her words –how funny, the idea of an android getting sick… right? And yet, more errors than what he can keep up with are popping up over and over, he tries to self-diagnose, quarantine and purge as much as he can, but the sheer effort of it is making him overheat again.

_»_ _Cooling speed increased to maximum capacity. Oxygen intake recommended._

He starts breathing heavily. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Pohkrel, I s̴̵e̷̢̛͘e͠m ͝t̵͠o̵̶͜ ̸̴̨͢b͢͠͡͝e ̴̨͘ş̶̨̨͢u̧̧͜f̸̢͢͝f̵͜e̡̧r͏͞͞i̕͞n̨͡g̸̡ a̡̕͡n͏̵ ̨̛͢͟i̴̶̴n̵̷͠t̶͟͝͝e̛͜͡r͢͡n̵̡̛̛a̷͞l͢͞ ̴̢͘͞m̵͜a̸̴l̛͟f̸u͘͠ņ̨͠c̢̢͜͡t̨̛͡i͜on.”

Static breaks his voice again, and in the midst of it a beeping sound so harsh all the humans in the Captain’s office flinch and cover their ears.

“What was that, what’s it trying to do?!” the Mayor’s representative is one of those people who were strongly anti-androids at first. He still hasn’t come around, but Markus was hoping having an open dialogue could change that.

The commotion attracts attention from the people outside of the office before more talking can happen.

“What the fuck was that?!” Hank looks at Connor across his desk for an answer— the RK800 technically isn’t working at the DPD anymore, not until labour laws about androids are properly finalized, but Fowler is no fool and won’t say no if Hank brings him in as a _private consultant_ from time to time, on cases that might require a superior skill set to crack.

Connor was just here to help the Lieutenant round up the final pieces of evidence on a red ice dealer that was siphoning blue blood off homeless androids; but he’s already vaulting over the desk and running into the Captain’s office before Hank even finishes the question.

“Markus? Markus!!!” he makes it into the room just as Markus topples forward from his chair and onto the floor.

“Oh my God, he’s burning up!” clearly, this lady has one or more children –her first instinct upon seeing the RK200 go down was to turn him on his side and feel his forehead. Completely forgetting that Markus isn’t technically human.

Connor would smile at her if he wasn’t so worried about Markus –she’s right, his temperature is at nearly 158 °F and if it goes up much more he could fry something. “His systems have been corrupted by some kind of malicious external software—” he doesn’t offer any other explanation for his barging in, he just kneels beside the lady, reaches for the RK200’s hand and runs a diagnostic.

Markus’ systems are pretty much scrambled, but it’s nothing life threatening, aside from the constant cluttering of useless prompts overheating the processing unit. Almost sighing his relief, Connor changes the priority level of the other’s secondary sub-routines so that only the most vital ones would run at top speed and the entire rest of his energy stays dedicated to constantly purging away the data clusters.

_»_ _Core temperature declining. Systems stabilizing._

_»_ _Multiple malfunctions detected._

_»_ _Software instability detected._

_»_ _Data purge ongoing._

Markus blinks his eyes open confusedly, and the office breathes a collective sigh of relief. “…Conn̷o̧r͘?”

Fowler is the first to react: “Jesus Christ, kid, you scared the hell out of us!”

The revolution leader tries to clear the static out of his voice and speaks up again. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t…”

“What happened?” very good question. Markus looks between Connor, who’s slowly helping him up, and the people from the ministry.

The RK800 splays a hand on his forehead, polymer skin retracting to show porcelain white, and chuckles at the diagnostic result.

“Congratulations, Markus.” He says, guiding one of the other’s arms so it’s slung around his shoulders, “You’re the first android in existence to fall ill.”

“Wha͠t̡?”

“What?!”

All the humans present clearly have questions. Connor shakes his head minutely –Markus clearly cannot carry on like this and _he_ cannot stay, he has to make sure the other gets home safe.

_«_ _Josh, how soon can you be at the DPD station?_ _»_

Bless the PJ500 and whoever created the line, the answer is almost immediate. _«Oh, hey Connor! About… 15 minutes. Why, what’s up? Is the meeting over?»_

 _«Not exactly. It’s nothing to worry about, but Markus has a malicious bug infecting his software and messing with his thermostat, sound unit and interface.»_ He explains, hoping that doesn’t cause too much worry, _«I’ve run a diagnostic and he’s not in danger, but he’s in no shape to continue the discussion. I need you guys to come cover for him.»_

 _«I’ll warn North and Simon and be right over.»_ Again, Connor wishes all of the world’s blessings upon Josh. _«And Connor?»_

_«Yes?»_

_«Thanks for taking care of him.»_

“Ladies, gentlemen, I have to ask you to bear with us for a couple minutes.” He says to the people in the room in the meantime. “Captain Fowler, would you be so kind as to call a recess for this meeting? Markus is in no condition to keep going, but I’ve already contacted someone who can come cover for him, they will be here in 15 minutes.”

“That’s ridiculous. Can’t you just restart it?”

Connor fights the urge to roll his eyes at the Mayor’s representative. “Would you also ask me to ram a baseball bat to the head of a person who’s feeling unwell and then wake them back up to see if they’re cured?”

The man opens his mouth, but closes it again.

_Didn’t think so. Bitch._

He’s starting to assimilate Hank’s speech pattern. The man is a terrible influence.

“I’m fin̶̛e, Ço͘͢ņ͞nor, I can st̸ill w͠ơ̧r̴͘k̶͘͏—” a louder and longer beeping sound interrupts Markus’ words.

The humans cover their ears again, while Connor pats him on the chest with his free hand. “Yes, clearly you’re in _stellar_ shape.” He deadpans, guiltily enjoying the fact that Markus can only glare at him silently right now, because if he tried opening his mouth more harsh static noises would come forth. “I’m taking you back to rest and that’s final.”

“…f͞͏i̷̴̴n̸e͏̕.”

The lady from the ministry who tried to help giggles slightly. “Get well soon, Markus.”

“Thank you͠,͢ ̧m̛a̵d͏͟a̷m̴̛.”

The horrifying crackle of static accompanying the Rk200’s voice makes them all flinch one last time. Fowler shakes his head. “Go on, get him outta here.” He tells Connor.

“Yes, sir. Please excuse us.” With that, the RK800 leads Markus out of the door, speaking to him in soft and calming tones. “Come on, Markus.”

He’s barely down the stairs when Hank comes almost bounding towards them.

“Connor! Hey! What—” it takes him all of one look at the state Markus is in to notice something is definitely wrong. “What’s up with _him_?”

“It seems Markus has caught a malicious software that is interfering with his functionality. I’m taking him back to his place to try and help him recover.” He’s already bracing for the joke.

“Wait, so you’re telling me Markus caught a _bug_?” it shouldn’t be this funny, but the Lieutenant can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, “Been awfully cold these past few weeks, I hear it’s going around.”

Connor stares impassively back at him. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t that funny. But still!

An android catching a _virus_? It was too low hanging a fruit. Hank regrets nothing.

“I j ư̴̵͘͜s̨t̸̡̨ ͟͞n͏̛͠͞eed to— lo̵͘͝c̸̨a̡tȩ̴̧͘̕ ͝ą̸͏n͡͏̴̨͟d̸̨͞ ̵͝b̕͟͜͞ŗ̶̕e̷͘͞a̛͞͠k͘̕͜͡ ̸̸̸͘͞do̷͏w̷̶̶̴͜n͡ ͏ţh̛͟͠e͘͏͜͞ ̴̵͜͠͝n̢ȩ̡͢t̶̡͘w̷͏͞o͢҉r̵̨ķ̢̧ ͏c̨͠o̢҉̶̨̛r̢͡r̢͜͞u̴̸p͠t̴̢̡̛i̛͞o̢̨͠n͝͞͞—”

“Don’t try to speak just yet, Markus.” Connor _coos_ at him, for lack of a better term. Hank is less surprised than he cares to admit. These two have grown thick as thieves ever since what has long since been dubbed ‘Liberation Day’ in Harts Plaza few months back; it soon became obvious enough that Connor, the _motherfucking_ android sent by _motherfucking_ Cyberlife, actually has a huge gay crush on the deviant leader.

It would have been apparent even to someone who’s not a detective, any time Markus would come to see Fowler and Connor happened to be there, it’d be as if there were goddamn sparkles flying around anytime they’d cross gazes, complete with saxophone solos in the background. Hank even has a bet going on about it with Miller, on whether Connor is going to grow some stones and confess or not.

“Do you want me to take you to Jericho or to Carl’s?”

The Lieutenant has to bite his tongue not to comment— Connor is all soft whispers and concerned glances, a far cry from a slap to the face and a thanks for the cooperation… but that’s a change that occurred thanks to Markus after all. Mostly. The RK800 did a lot of changing on his own already, but being near Markus just… seems to have that effect on him —a constant pull to be better, to care _more_.

“…Cą̨͟r͢͜l̛'s͞.” It’s the best choice, thinking on it: they don’t yet know if the malicious software attacking Markus could infect other androids, but surely it won’t transfer to humans. And it’s also an environment that Markus holds dear and considers stress free, so that’s an added plus. “Hey, C̨̛o̵̢n͝n̸o̸̴r… T̡͠ha͡n̸̕k̵ ̕you.”

Fuck, this is painful to watch. Hank will forgive Markus for being oblivious in this moment because he’s sick or whatever, but Jesus, how can Connor _not_ notice? The man is barely able to hold himself upright, never mind speak, and still he went through the effort of turning to look at him in the eyes, five fucking inches from his face, to say ‘thank you’. Come on!

“Let’s get going, your right eye is starting to slightly ooze thirium.” To be fair, the RK800 is probably distracted by the malware currently wreaking havoc in Markus’ internal processes, so maybe he gets a pass too. “Hank, please explain my absence for the rest of the day.”

“Don’t sweat it, kiddo, get outta here.”

They briefly cross detective Reed on the way out –he’s his usual unpleasant self, but no more and no less than the next guy. Connor shouldn’t have enjoyed the moment the garbled static coming out of Markus’ mouth instead of a greeting nearly has the human pissing himself in fear, but he did. The RK200’s right sclera has stained blue with thirium and the distorted sounds he makes trying to speak can be more than a little disturbing for human ears.

“Sorry about that. Markus is, for lack of a better term, a bit under the weather. I am taking him back to rest and recover.” He says, mustering up all the innocence he can fake and leaving a puzzled Gavin just staring at the two of them.

“What?” he looks at their retreating figures, then at Hank who just shrugs at him, and then back towards the direction the two have disappeared into. Eventually, he shakes his head to himself. “Fucking androids.”

There’s a poignant pause at that.

“Hey, Hank. Is it too late to get in on that bet?”

That sends the Lieutenant into guffaws. _Years_ they’ve been waiting for this asshole to grow up, and this is what makes him come around.

 

Markus cannot physically say it right now, but he _is_ grateful that Connor is the one to be here to take care of him –Simon would worry way too much, Josh would chastise him for being careless with his health and the security of his systems, and North would never let him live it down.

He’s actually pretty sure that option is still on the table, considering the guys have probably been informed by now. Still, there’s no one else he’d have by his side other than Connor.

In a number of ways. It feels kinda good to be held like this.

 _No_ , he shouldn’t let his mind get away from him, not right now.

When the RK800 swooped in to save him, as he _usually_ does, he had to disable some of his secondary subroutines to prevent Markus’ processing units from frying themselves with the effort of keeping everything up and running through the errors caused by the infected software— which means he now is not functioning at full power and as such could fall victim of verbal disinhibition, on top of the warped speech, internal overheating and occasional loss of motor capabilities.

One slip up and he could blurt out his feelings for Connor just like that –it’s almost poetic, the rebel leader falling for the former deviant hunter. It surely says something about his character that the first person he ever feels romantically attracted to is a man who was built to be his natural predator.

_»_ _Core temperature rising._

Woah, okay, let’s abandon that train of thought. Markus takes a trembling breath to sort himself out, while Connor pats his back reassuringly. “We’re almost there.”

 

«Alarm deactivated. Welcome home, Markus. Welcome, Connor.»

The RK800 has been a registered guest in Carl Manfred’s home for quite a while. It started when he’d find himself unsure where to go but unwilling to bother Hank, since he already did so much for Connor: with nowhere else and no one to turn to, he looked for Markus, and found him about to journey the distance to Carl’s home.

 _“You’re troubled by something.”_ He had said, not even phrasing it as a question. Markus just took one look at him, saw through his hardened exterior right into a possibly familiar whirlwinds of doubts and questions, and just held out a hand. _“Come with me. I’ll show you where I go when I feel lost. You’ll like it.”_

Which was how Connor had the honor to make the acquaintance of one Carl Manfred— decidedly an eccentric man, but an absolutely delightful one at that. It’s easy to see how Markus came to be the way he is and why he loves his surrogate father so much.

“Anyone home?” he calls out to the house once they’re in, “Pardon the intrusion, I have an armful of revolution leader to deposit...”

He finds Carl in the studio with his new android healthcare assistant –fully deviant and Markus-approved, of course. The painter even compensates Thomas for his work, even though androids can’t legally have bank accounts yet: the AP700 is free to peruse Carl’s resources for all his needs, from clothing and spare parts to pointless things like decorations or hobbies; and has his own room in the house, next to the painter’s and across Markus’ one.

 “Markus!” Carl’s face brightens upon seeing Markus, and Thomas greets them with a smile as well.

“Hello—”

“Please stay back, Thomas.” Connor advises, “Markus is suffering from a malicious software infiltrating his systems, I brought him here to rest and get him better.”

“Hi̢, ̧ḑa̢͞d̕.̶͝ ̢͢S̴͢o̸rry ̴̴̢a͜bo̧͢u͟͞t͡ ̢͜͠t͟h—” when Markus’ greeting is interrupted by yet another shrill beeping sound, he snaps his mouth shut and Carl blinks confusedly.

“Either you just censored yourself, or whatever this is got you good.”

Markus’ processing unit is now set to constantly run the purge, even though right now more and more errors come up with however many get deleted and repaired, but at least it’s a steady enough rhythm to keep him below 104° F and functioning somewhat coherently.

The most annoying ones are those that mess with his optical and sound unit –impaired vision has its obvious downside, along with the vertigo from the higher than normal temperature and balance sensors displacement; and there’s something profoundly annoying about the idea of opening his mouth and having little to no control over what comes out.

North would say there’s not much of a difference with his usual, but she isn’t here to tease him, luckily.

As it is, Carl just chuckles and reaches a hand up to Markus’ cheek. “I’m sure there’s a few jokes here somewhere about computer viruses and biological ones, but I’ll just let you boys go sort this out.” He says, shifting his gaze from his android son to Connor, “You go take good care of him, alright?”

It _could_ be just Connor’s latent paranoia, but something in the painter’s smirk as he said those words sent a thought spiralling through him: _shit, he knows_.

He is absolutely not ready to have _that_ talk, so he makes the only sound tactical choice: smiling, gracefully excusing himself and fleeing to Markus’ room.

Connor may or may not have thought this through rather poorly: he’s now alone with Markus in his room, while the other is vulnerable, in need and— _tugging clothes off?!_

“Markus?!”

The RK200 stops mid-way to pulling his shirt off and it’s honestly worse than if he just removed it altogether, especially with the sheepish smile he gives Connor. “Sorry. ̧M͘͜y̸ ͏͞ch̢̧e̷͡st ̶͢f̕͝e̢e͞͞lş ̕͠h̴̷ǫ͝t̢.͜”

“It is.” The words leave Connor’s mouth before he can stop them and he barely even has the time to curse himself for being so goddamn –what’s the word Hank used? Oh, yeah– _thirsty_. “I mean, undressing probably won’t actually do you much good, physically speaking, but if it makes you feel better, go on ahead.” 

He’s already down this rabbit hole anyway. The lack of a shirt won’t make it any worse or any better than it is now, but Gods above, he can barely look at it without feeling tempted to run his hands all over it. Markus just nods gratefully at him, unnervingly oblivious, and tugs the garment over his head, but the second his face is covered by it he loses his balance and tips backwards –some of the error prompts are making godawful sounds in his interface, royally messing up his equilibrium.

Connor is by his side in a heartbeat, grabbing him at the waist to steady him and then bringing his hands up to help get the stupid shit off of him.

 _‘This is fine.’_ He tells his own interface, _‘You’re just helping him get better. This is completely innocent and you’re not turned on.’_

Hopefully if he repeats it to himself enough times he’ll believe it.

They manage without too much of a struggle, and Connor helps Markus to sit on the bed. “There we go.” Without thinking, he swipes a thumb underneath Markus’ right eye, where a little bit of thirium had oozed off. “I’ll stay by your side while you’re debugging, and run an analysis to try and figure out what caused this and help you flush it out. You should—”

Markus opens his lips, but one of those blasted random props chooses that exact time to mess with his sound unit: _“[Take me on the floor!](https://youtu.be/Hz9c5FaYxzQ?t=157) – I can’t take it anymore! How I want you, I want you, I want you to show me lo—” _eyes widening like saucers, the RK200 immediately shuts his mouth and quarantines the offending script. “I̧ a̵m͡ s͏o̷... ̨͜͞s͝ơ̕͠ ͠s̕͡o̢̧r̢͘͞r̵̨y.̵..”

Connor was almost about to take him up on that. The words registered a split second before the loud blaring of the song. It’s hard to say whether he was more disappointed from the crumbling of his momentary fantasy or confused by the uncanny comedic timing of that one particular error. “It’s okay, Markus. I know it’s not your fault.”

Markus bites slightly at his lower lip. It partly is –the bug must have picked up on his inhibitions, all the times he had an option to tell Connor how he felt and he discarded it in favor of hiding his feelings. Now, with his software in shambles, those binned prompts are coming back full force and turning into a cocktail of weird ideas and interface messages. It’s pure dumb luck that Connor hasn’t picked up on it yet.

_«_ _Is your communication system still okay?_ _»_

_«It seems to be. It might be because it doesn’t pass through the sound unit, and the bug appears to have caught on my core functions rather than the communication ones.»_ At least he has one way to speak without making a complete fool of himself.

It’s almost unfair. Here Connor is, taking care of him in a way no one else ever has, with the same reckless abandon he had throwing himself into their cause, making Markus feel safe, cared for, almost _loved_ … and he can scarcely even open his mouth to thank him.

“That’s good.” Connor audibly says, “Tell me when you’re ready for me to run the analysis.”

Markus closes his eyes to steel himself. _«Ready.»_

To his credit, the RK800 only hesitates a moment before taking Markus’ hand –he’s a state of the art prototype, goddamn it, his security systems are impeccable and he’s already interfaced with the other once today without catching his _bug_. He feels Markus’ fingers tighten around his own as he runs through the cascade of data –the RK200 is nervous about something.

Connor can hazard an educated guess. “I’m sorry, I’m trying my best not to touch any memories I could be unwelcome in…”

 _«_ _It’s okay, you’re already doing more than you had to… I could kiss you right now._ _»_ Did he actually say that? Shit, he said that. Connor takes it remarkably in stride at first, focused as he is on his ‘mission’.

He chuckles slightly at Markus, analysis still running strong. “Let’s get you out of the woods and without verbal disinhibition first, _then_ we can see whether you still want to reward my efforts with kisses or not.”

His eyes widen minutely when he finally finds the source. There was a latent weakness in Markus’ external network unit, that would have been resolved upon downloading the pending update Connor had _told_ him not to ignore, no matter how busy he was. This whole thing could have been easily avoided if Markus would just listen— oh. _Oh_.

While delving slightly deeper to manually jumpstart the update and repair the corrupted bit of software, Connor accidentally looked around more than he should’ve… but if this is true and not a result of the scrambled bits of codes infecting him…

There’s a strong chance Markus returns his feelings and Connor has been as big a fool as Hank has been telling him. The connection cuts off abruptly— Markus has retracted his hand and is still looking at him with wide, anxious eyes.

“…Co͠n̛n̡ǫr—”

“Shh, it’s okay.” He interrupts, touching his fingertips to Markus’ lips before he can continue. “I’ve expelled the main malware and repaired the corrupted portion of your software, your own systems are more than capable of taking care of the rest. You should power down while it purges the lingering errors… your temperature is still higher than it should be, and you’ll probably still feel dizzy and out of sorts for a while.”

 _«_ _It does feel like I’ve got a watermelon for a head._ _»_ The RK200 concedes with a tentative smile, _«_ _But we have to talk about what you just saw—_ _»_

“And we will, Markus.” Connor assures. He shifts his hand to cradle the other’s chin softly and returns the smile. “But I want you to be 100% _you_ when we have that conversation. So lie down, take a load off for a couple hours… and once you’re all better, we can still have a talk about that kiss.”

What a tease. What an absolutely dreadful tease. Connor has him all figured out, and he leaves him hanging with a caress and a wink.

Still, if he just said that, it means that he must feel something too, doesn’t it? Markus lowers his eyes just for a second, deciding to take a chance.

 _«_ _Okay._ _»_ He leans forward, to leave a feather-like kiss just at the corner of Connor’s lips, before leaning back to lie down on the bed. _«_ _Stay? Until I wake up?_ _»_

If he said he doesn’t enjoy the half second of speechlessness going through the other’s face right now, Markus would be a big fat liar. Eventually, Connor shakes his head at him, regarding him with an exasperated but fond expression.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Markus enters stasis with the soothing feeling of Connor’s cool hand brushing over his mildly overheated forehead and the soft sound of his reassuring whispers.

He’s never felt like this for anyone, and has never had anyone making him feel like _they_ actually cared for him so deeply— when he collapsed, Connor quite literally left everything he was doing and rushed to his side, not leaving him for one moment, and still counting.

Coming to think of it, it does say something about their relationship.

Markus didn’t believe Connor actually had romantic feelings for him, but… well, it looks like Lieutenant Anderson has lost the bet he thinks they don’t know about. After all, Connor didn’t confess first, and he didn’t _‘straight up dive for the kiss’_ either.

Though, hopefully, there’ll be _plenty_ of time to remedy that when he’s all better.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watching Markus as he lies in bed self-repairing is possibly the worst kind of torture fathomable.
> 
> Not that Connor is complaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOP DE DOO PART TWO IS HERE.
> 
> It's hella short and written in a total of maybe two hours, but hey.  
> Take it.
> 
> RK1K day 6, prompt: Connor appreciating Markus' abs
> 
> (who doesn't, really? big fat mood if you ask me.)
> 
> Either

Watching Markus as he lies in bed self-repairing is possibly the worst kind of torture fathomable.

He’s perfect. He was _built_ to be perfect— if Connor had the chance of another meeting with Elijah Kamski, he would probably ask him _why_ the hell did he make a healthcare assistant to look more attractive than any sex bot or partner model ever created.

Not that he’s complaining.

Also, he guesses it would be subjective, though he can’t think of one person who _wouldn’t_ find the RK200 prototype attractive.

It’s just hard to fight off the urge to reach out and touch, especially since Markus is peacefully laying there half naked, _right after_ he admitted to having feelings for him. Well, not in so many words, but he didn’t deny what Connor saw in his head —and he kissed him.

“Dick move, by the way.” He whispers to the silence of the room. He’s not mad about the kiss itself, that was very sweet, but Markus got to power down straight after that, while Connor is left here to sit at the edge of the mattress, watch over him and anticipate the moment when they can actually put an end to their dancing around each other.

Oh, well. He entertains himself watching Markus; everything about him seems specifically created to make him lose his mind. The freckles on his face, the barest hint of them also smattered on the top of his chest –again, _questionable motives for design choices_ – every small curve and indentation of his abdomen.

There’s a nasty looking horizontal scar on his right side, that looks like it has been just sealed with a hot poker rather than getting properly repaired, but even that detail marring the otherwise spotless perfection typical of all androids only serves to make Markus _more_ beautiful. More real, more _alive_.

Connor has the sudden prompt to lean down and trace the scar with his tongue. He shoves the task down violently; pushing the top priority on the much more reasonable task he creates himself: _‘Wait until Markus is awake and able to give full consent’_.

He does wonder, though— would Markus have lost sensitivity on that spot? Or would the touch sensors be _more_ sensitive, because the burnt polymer now runs thinner over the chassis?

Oh, he can’t wait to find out.

Multiple scenarios preconstruct themselves in his head, each more inviting than the previous one.

Thomas comes knocking once, accompanied by Carl, to ask if he needs anything, but Connor respectfully declines and assures both that Markus is fine and will wake up momentarily.

The RK800’s sees Carl’s eyes linger on how he’s holding Markus’ hand in his sleep, but if he had something to say about it, Connor will never know: the painter’s face lightens with the barest hint of a smile and nods to Thomas to wheel him out. “I leave Markus to your dutiful care, then.” He simply says, “Lord knows it’s high time someone took care of _him_ for a change.”

Connor can scarcely do anything but nod.

Left alone again, he feels his own eyes tracing every millimetre of Markus’ body yet again. Even running the numbers of it, Connor isn’t surprised to find out that most of his proportions respect Da Vinci’s so-called _golden ratio_ , up to the fourth decimal point.

Impressive, considering a human designed Markus –and just a little ironic, considering his adoptive father is a painter.

“Conn͞o̴r̕?” Finally, _finally_ the RK200 opens his eyes, and his free hand stretches outwards to try and find Connor’s.

“Hey, stranger.” He calls softly, smiling when Markus drags both hands up his forearms to grasp at them as he sits up, “You already sound a lot more like yourself.”

There it is. The smile that would melt a lesser android down to their basic core functions.

“Thanks to yo͜u.” Markus whispers softly, “I still have a few doz̶en scramble̢d͜ proçesses to get rid̸ ͘of, but my system functionali̡t͘y̸ ̕is̛ back at 100%.”

Connor wasn’t paying attention to what happened with his hands, now that Markus was out of stasis and cradling him in his arms, but his attention snaps to them when he feels the RK200’s body shift underneath his fingertips— oh, so he’s already trailing his hands down Markus’ chest, within five seconds of him being awake and coherent.

_Restrain yourself from jumping Markus._

Easier said than done, interface.

Apparently, Markus has _also_ noticed his not-so-idle hands, if the imperceptible hunch of his shoulder and his flattered chuckle are any indication. “I think ̢we have a few th̵ings to talk abouţ.”

How _not_ to fall for this man? Connor would dare anyone in his position to— no, scratch that, his position right now is _way_ too good to share. He clears his voice and nods at Markus.

“We do. I’ll go first.” He leans slightly closer to the other’s face as he speaks: “I want you. I’ve wanted you possibly since the freighter raid; I don’t know when being close to you became the be all end all of my existence but… _fuck_ , Markus, I think I’m in love and it terrifies me because it’s an emotion so goddamn strong I don’t know what to do with it.”

The revolution leader looks speechless for a second— he didn’t expect such a heartfelt and intense confession. It’s… honestly a huge relief, because Markus feels basically the same.

Connor had been a constant bogeyman at the back of his mind ever since his first lonely subway ride until the moment they met on Jericho. A prototype android, equipped with all the latest technology and designed to _hunt deviants like him_ , specifically sent to _fuck him up_.

When he first heard Connor’s voice, he turned to face him with a mixture of fear and _anticipation_.

Instead of giving into his fight or flight, he stayed. Reached out, talked to him… and the impossible happened. The hunter and the hunted joined forces and, _holy shit_ … having Connor fight by his side, mere moments after they were staring each other down, was possibly the biggest power trip in Markus’ whole existence. The moment Connor came back to him, alive and well –and with roughly five thousand androids to join the cause– is a close second, but it still applies.

This bloodhound, this beautiful, lethal creature, left everything else _for_ him, and returns his affections.

“C̵on̛nor, I—” he stops for a second, deletes a bunch of useless strings _still_ messing with his sound unit and carries on, “I can’t give you all the answers about what it means to have feelings, but what I _can_ tell you is that I feel for you the same way. All the things you saw in my head… they were all true. All me.” He breaks into a chuckle, averting his eyes self-consciously for a moment before he runs his hands along Connor’s shoulders and all the way up to cradle the sides of his face. “Possibly, even the stupid goddamn song was me. In a way.”

 _That_ gets a low chuckle out of Connor. “Oh? Should I take it as a suggestion?”

“Well… I’m not complaining either way, but I’m kind of comfortable right here.”

“Fair enough.” The RK800 bites at his lower lip, mind reeling with the possibilities, and Markus follows the motion with his eyes.

They’ve both been slowly leaning forward for the past two minutes.

“I think we’re supposed to kiss, now.”

Connor couldn't agree more. He dives forward the rest of the way, shifting his weight so he can properly climb on the bed and straddle Markus.

Kissing him feels months overdue, good enough to make his pressure sensors spin with the touch and the sensation of the RK200's lips against his own and _oh_. It feels like the universe _owed_ him his, after all the shit he's been through.

Markus certainly seems to think the same, if the way he opens his mouth to bite at him slightly while tugging him even closer by the neck is any clue.

"Connor—" he briefly pulls away to whisper a broken call of the other's name, but whatever he was about to say gets lost in the few seconds they spend staring into each other's eyes; and Markus decides against continuing in favor of kissing Connor again.

The RK800 grins against his mouth.

_«Fuck, Markus, I've wanted this so much, you have no idea.»_

Now that he can, he wastes no time in letting his fingers trace a path down Markus' chest and abdomen –it feels just as heavenly as he imagined, especially so because the other arches and bucks under the touch.

Connor lingers over the sear scar, and the verdict is...

"Ah— _shit_ , Connor..."

 _Hyper_ sensitive. Good to know. He revels in the way Markus throws his head back and cards a hand through his hair –he maybe enjoys it a little too much when the RK200 unconsciously tightens a fist and pulls.

At least, from the way Markus' hips buck up between his legs, it seems like they're in the same exact predicament.

"Wait— wait—"

Markus pulls back brusquely for a moment. Connor is almost worried, then he sees the other briefly touch a hand to his right temple and classical piano music can be heard playing from downstairs.

His database identifies the piece. _Bella Notte_ , by Ludovico Einaudi.

 _'Beautiful Night'_. He smirks. "Should I be flattered?"

Markus looks so sheepish it's almost endearing. "...Carl doesn't need to hear what's happening..." True enough. It'd be rude of them at the very least. "And... he'd sometimes tell me stories of when he was in college... he'd leave this song playing at full volume as a signal to his roommate that he had— company..."

Carl Manfred is such a fucking legend. Connor can't help the low giggles escaping him. "You're either thinking very highly of your chances or worried about the noises I can get you to make."

"Can’t I be both?"

The RK800 runs both hands all the way back up Markus' chest to the nape of his neck. "Strap yourself in, then."

It's all the warning Connor gives before attacking the other's neck with his mouth, making touch sensors light up like a Christmas tree and Markus throw his head back in a moan— there are perks to knowing _exactly_ where an android's softer, weaker spots are. All the parts with a higher concentration of sensory inputs to make the android more easily aware of potential damage. The neck, just under the sound unit, the sternum, the top of the spine, the sides...

Connor actually does end up leaning down and tracing Markus' hip scar with his tongue— it makes the RK200 nearly arch clean off the bed.

Oh, this is going to be _fun_.

 

There are clothes strewn messily around the room by the time Connor is done riding Markus back to full health; the RK800 is still straddling Markus' lap and resting his head on the other's chest while Markus softly runs his fingers through his hair.

"You know what?" He whispers.

"What?" The RK200' voice vibrates through his chest and Connor closes his eyes with a smile at the sensation.

"I think I always knew... all this time... that I would love you."

Markus holds him tighter.

"You're way too good at saying exactly what people want to hear, _Negotiator_."

"Hey!" Connor pushes himself up and playfully strikes the other on the chest, "Here I am baring my heart to you, and this is the reaction I get? Unbelievable."

What he was not expecting is the softening of Markus' mismatched gaze and that one smile that always makes him feel like he's gonna melt in a puddle of thirium and lovesick goo.

"I love you too." Oh, and that. He wasn't expecting that either.

They had already pretty much shared the confession without speaking, the very moment they joined hands while kissing, but it still feels different to hear it said.

It makes Connor feel impossibly, deliriously happy. Like he can actually let himself have this, because Markus will be with him every step of the way.

Clearly, the only possible response has to be a joke. "And here I thought you just wanted to get me naked."

" _Please_." As further proof that they're made for each other, Markus picks up on it and answers in stride: "We both know I look way better shirtless."

They both actually laugh at that –easy and carefree in a way they hadn't allowed themselves to be, caught up as they were with leading a whole revolution.

As he runs a hand back down Markus' abdomen, Connor smirks to himself. He will concede _that_ point.

"... Fa̢i̶͘r ̕ę͠n̕͝ou̢͘͡g̢h̛."

Hank is going to be _so_ mad he lost the bet— wait, what the hell?

The RK800 runs a diagnostic.

_»_ _System corruption detected._

_»_ _Software instability detected._

_»_ _Network corruption detected._

_» Interface malfunctioning._

_» Sound unit corruption detected._

Some of the malicious code that was infecting Markus must have ended up downloaded into him by accident while they were connected during the analysis and purge. _Shit._

“…Connor? Are you—”

“N̶o͝.” The poignant silence and Markus’ gaze on him are way more eloquent than words. “…Shu̷t͏ ̕͡u͠p.͟”

“I didn’t say anything.” Maybe not, but the slight giggle breaking the RK200’s voice is damning enough. “I’m all healed and shielded now. Do you want me to tuck you in bed and make you all better?”

Connor is torn between not wanting to show ‘weakness’ and very much wanting to cuddle up in Markus’ arms. Fuck, this thing _does_ make your head feel like a watermelon. He drops his forehead on his lover’s blessed chest once more. “…Yes̵̸, p͜͝l̵e̡͘a͏̵s̡͠e͢͞.̸̢”

Forget the stupid bet, Hank is going to be _so_ pissed that he got himself sick.

But hey, at least he’ll have an excuse to stay in bed and cuddle up to Markus for the whole rest of the day.

That doesn’t sound too bad at all.

 


End file.
